Her and Them: Summer
by FloodFeSTeR
Summary: What makes you think they're so dangerous? Maybe they're just trying to protect each other. - - Daryl/OC/Merle, more lust than romance - - Mature content - - Redo of The Divide
1. Preface

_Hi! _

_So, I have the original version of this story on my profile under the title The Divide. But as I was going through everything, I began to hate myself. A lot of things were rushed, plenty of grammatical errors and I had no sense of organization. But! Hopefully I can fix that up in the new version we're reading right now. Plot holes will be filled and other things will be explained. How about we start with the basics?_

_**Summary: **__What makes you think they're so dangerous? Maybe they're just tryin' to protect each other._

_**OC: **__Marcine – her full bio is on my page, please read for an explanation._

_**Set: **__First season and so on._

_**Warning (s): **__Extreme violence, graphic rape, consensual sexual violence, psychopathic tendencies, cannibalism, possible three ways and lust triangle – plus a few other things I don't want to give away just yet. You will be warned of the content at the top of each chapter, no worries. I don't believe its right to subject an entire story to an M rating when there are just a few chapters with rough content. Daryl is far from the sweet hearted angel we see in Walking Dead. If you read the original version of this story, you will understand what I mean. Story will be in third person._

* * *

"_She had no idea she was  
going to unlock the vault of  
utter insanity…she had  
merely just skimmed the  
surface of the madness that  
lay hidden below in the  
dark corners of his mind."_

_Right Now It's Your Tomorrow_

* * *

They say madness breeds madness.

Maybe that's true.

Maybe.

I don't really know anymore.

It seems like I was normal, or maybe that was a dream I had years ago, when everything was perfect behind my rose colored glasses.

You see, I'm what you call a survivor. I'm not a rarity or anything, there are plenty of survivors, but I'm just a different breed. Yep, I said it, a different breed. Can't really explain why I'm different from others, I just know I am. And I'm not alone, I have others that are just like me. Well, not really, but really. Understand? I wouldn't expect you to. When I try to explain this to others, they never understand and I don't really expect them to.

I don't need them to.

I call myself a survivor, others call me a monster. How am I a monster? We all do what we have to, to survive in this hell we call reality. How am I any different from them? I'm sure they've done their own share of cruel things. I guess it doesn't matter though.

I think my difference is that I'm not alone in my throws of madness, I have someone that understands me completely.

He created me after all.


	2. Her

_I have to say, thank you ARG613. Half asleep so I got a lil stumped by your review, but it's all good now. My sister posted the wrong chapter for me last time. This is the second chapter.  
_

_R&R please, flames and praise alike are welcomr._

* * *

She watched from the bedroll, her caretakers still unaware of her livid eyes. There was a woman standing just outside the open tent flap, her body tall and spindly, lanky. Her hair was wild on the crown of her head and her long fingers held onto her hips in a defiant stance. Her eyes were darting everywhere; to the flames of a fire just behind the man she was speaking to, to the strange woman on the bedroll, to the children playing somewhere she couldn't see. A tall man stared down at her, his lips quirked and pursed together. He had his hands on his hips, leaning towards the woman slightly. After another moment of staring, he reached back and rubbed his neck, groaning as he took a step back.

"We can' take anymore people, Lori. An' what is she turns out to be a danger to the group," he argued, holding a hand out to her.

She rolled her eyes. "The Dixons bring back plenty of food, we have extra tents, plenty of space and do you see her," Lori gestured to the tent. "She's skin and bones. If we send her out there, she'll die. Shane, just let her stay until she gets back on her feet."

Shane sighed and looked towards the girl. His eyes widened slightly, spooked by the fact that her eyes were latched onto him with a strange intensity. He swallowed hard, looking back to Lori and then back to her. They were both eyeing him, waiting for his answer. Whatever answer he gave would sort this woman's future out in more than one way. But she was staring at him, staring at him with those large eyes. How could he say no now?

"Fine," he shook his head a little. "She can stay, but she's your responsibility. I'm not gonna bite my tongue is she messes up."

Lori glared, watching him give the stranger one more fleeting look before he turned his back and walked towards the R.V.; he was being completely irrational. Lori wiped at her forehead with the heel of her hand and turned to walk into the tent, glancing briefly at the young woman, who had her eyes closed again, truly trying to get some sleep, and then she crouched down, staring at her harshly. She was so thin, her skin was straining to stick to those cheek bones that were jutting out under her eyes. Lori ran a hand through her hair, looking up just as the young woman opened her eyes. When Lori noticed, she wasn't even fazed, she just stared at her impassively.

"So, is your name Minx, or is that even your bag," she asked slowly.

The girl just stared, her lips squeezed shut tightly. She didn't want to share anything, not with this stranger or any other. Silence had been a defense mechanism ever since she was a child and it still was. Lori sighed and pushed herself up, slumping into Carl's bed, watching the stranger that was currently occupying her bed. They stared at each other for a long time, one set of eyes a dark brown, the other a brilliant gold.

"My name is Marcine," she whispered to Lori, voice hoarse from screaming and misuse.

Lori cocked her head to the right, her tired face glittering with something. "That's a strange name, why does it say Minx on your bag?"

Marcine closed er eyes, breathing in deeply through her nose before she looked to Lori again. "It was the name of…of a girl I knew. Found her in a department store," Marcine's lips pursed for a moment. "I killed her. She was already dead."

Lori nodded slowly, a lump forming in her throat. "Well," she cleared her throat slightly, leaning forward. "We agreed to keep you set up until you're healed. If you want to leave, no one will stop you, of course you are welcome to stay."

Marcine nodded the best she could laying on her side. "Thank you, I haven't ran into many kind people since the shit hit the fan."

Lori smiled and stood. "Well, we try our best," she crouched down beside Marcine and pulled a black plastic bag from under the bed. "I mean, the world _just _ended after all, no sense in being a horrible savage just yet."

Marcine chuckled at her words and clumsily pushed herself up into a seated position, listening rather than watching Lori search through the bag. She rotated her arms a few times, finding the muscles sore and tired, her neck and spine cracking as she moved around. She hadn't realized how worn and tired she was, how haggard. How had she managed to stay alive? Survival instincts must have been going on over-drive. She looked to Lori when the woman made a small noise and saw her holding a can of peaches. She tossed it into the air and then caught it, twisting the top off before she handed it to Marcine.

"Here," Lori rummaged around for a plastic fork that had settled in the bottom of the bag. "You need to eat something."

Marcine smiled slightly and took the peaches and fork offered to her. "Thank you," she whispered, sliding the first slice into her mouth.

"No problem, want me to go tell your saviors that you're awake?"

Marcine noted the concern in Lori's voice, pausing in her eating. "You don't seem to want to, but I would like to know who we're talking about that is making you so nervous."

Lori looked out of the tent, looking just as nervous as Marcine said, bouncing on her heels slightly. "I don't want to go near them, they're not exactly good people."

"And who said I was a good person? You're talking to me," Marcine pointed at her with her fork, sliding another peach into her mouth. "Now come on, who we talkin' bout, what makes them so bad?"

Lori sighed and settled herself on the floor of the tent, knees pointed up. "The Dixons…they're rednecks, I guess. Not really social, not really nice when they are. I can't believe they saved you like they did."

Marcine snorted. "You make it sound like they're murders."

Silence filled the tent and Marcine looked to meet Lori's eyes. She was staring at the young woman with so much concern it made Marcine's stomach hurt. There was also something else in there, like she knew something but wasn't sure enough to voice it. What could possibly be so bad?

Eventually, Lori sighed and reached back, ruffling her hair as she shrugged. "I guess you're right, it's just…" she trailed off for a moment, watching something outside of the tent. "Some of the people in the group thinks they've killed people with the way they act. Merle is sadistic and obviously on heavy drugs. Daryl seems like the better half of them, but he still makes rude comments when he helps us."

Marcine snorted again, feeling more like herself than one of the dead. "Sounds like people I used to avoid," she set her now empty can of peaches to the right of her feet."

The look in Lori's eyes said she felt the exact same way. Marcine figured she was a house wife, one that went to little league games or ballet classes and hoped their child would become some super star but didn't push them too hard. She was like her mother, in every which way but insane. Model housewife. She looked the part, just like her mother. Marcine didn't really like that, she had never really liked her mother and she doubted after this, she and Lori would fair much better.

Lori sighed and pulled herself up to her feet, dusting off the back of her jeans. "Well, I have laundry to finish. I just wanted to make sure Shane didn't pester you, he has a habit of being annoying."

Marcine chuckled and tried to stand on shaky, twig-like legs but they almost gave out from under her and she swayed, Lori managing to catch her by her elbow before she could hit the floor of the tent. "Thanks," Marcine muttered, pulling her arm back towards her chest.

She didn't mean to be rude, Marcine just wasn't that big on human contact. She would revert back to herself when she got to feeling better, when she got back to feeling like herself. She didn't think she could stay here long, she didn't like the feeling she got. Like everything was normal, like this was just some camping trip. Looking around the grounds, she noted how clean everyone was and how happy they all seemed. Didn't they know the world ended? There were tents scattered in the tree line and there were three campfires set up around the area. There were two to her left and then, far from the main area of the group, sat two tents with a small fire still crackling between them. That must be where the Dixons were, their own little quarantine. She looked over her shoulder, not seeing anyone really paying attention to her, and she shimmied her way towards the tents.

As Marcine got closer, she realized that there was only one tent, really. The other was more of a sheet strung between two hefty sticks stuck in the ground. Someone liked to live upon the lap of luxury and the other didn't give a shit. She looked around again and then bent at the waist slightly, tucking her loose hair back to see into one of the tents. The sheet was empty but there was a sleeping bag and a black bag inside the tent.

She jumped and screamed when she felt thick fingers wrap around her hip bones.

She twisted around, falling onto the black dirt and looking towards the other side of camp. There were a few men jumping up, coming to her aid. She swallowed and looked back up at the man that had grabbed her and whimpers, pushing herself back in the dirt.

He was leering down at her growly, one hand running over his beer gut and the other curling and uncurling from a fist at his side. He was wearing tan pants that had holes and had blood stains in a few areas; Marcine wondered if it was Walker or human blood. He was old, that much was obvious from the lack of gray hair and the wrinkles at the edge of his eyes, the slight sag in his neck. He wore a vest and a black shirt underneath, his farmers tan on full view.

This was Merle.

It just had to be.

"Well well well," he leered. "Look who woke up while we was gone."

Marcine whimpered again. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean t-"

"Back off Merle," a gruff voice came from behind the older man. "Moron."

Merle looked annoyed when the younger man assumed to be Daryl pushed past him, sharp and icy eyes flashing over Marcine before sending a glare to the men that were waiting, wanting to jump in but not really knowing what to do. He looked back down at Marcine, who was staring up at him with wide, fearful, eyes. His hair was short and a dark brown, possibly black, but the faint stubble on his chin was dark with blonde patches. She watched his tongue snake out and slide over his bottom lip, making her eyes blur for a moment.

"Get yer ass up an' go on," he growled. "Don' feel like dealin with these jackasses right now," he grunted, nudging Marcine's leg out of the way so he could get into his tent.

A wide hand grabbed onto her elbow and jerked her to her feet. She looked up with slightly traumatized eyes at Shane, who was leveling a glare at Merle. But Merle only leered back, tongue sticking out slightly from the corner of his mouth. Marcine quivered when Shane began to drag her back to the other side of the grounds, eyes still locked with Merle's as he grinned after her. She found her feet at some point and pulled herself out of Shane's grip, walking behind him for a moment before she collapsed halfway back to camp. She braced her hands flat against the ground, a few tears slipping out into the dirt as she shook, still in fear of that man behind her. If that's what you wanted to call him, he seemed more like the devil and Daryl…she didn't know what to think about him, so she didn't give him a second thought.

She saw two pairs of shoes enter the edges of her vision and looked up through clouded eyes to the two women above her. One was a kind eyed young blonde and the other was a woman that appeared older than she probably was, her worn face and gray hair making her seem sort of alien-like. They smiled at her and offered her their hands, which she took gratefully and let them usher her to a log they had rolled up to one of the low burning fires. The men were scattered, but the majority of them were near the R.V.; only the women huddled around her, like they were a football team. Any other time, Marcine would have chuckled at the thought, but right now she just wanted to curl up and hide.

"Why the hell did you go over there," one of the two blondes asked, worry lines around her mouth and eyes.

"Andrea," the young blonde scolded.

Andrea looked offended. "What? I was just wondering, jeez," she threw her hands in the air a little and slumped down onto one of the logs.

The young blonde sighed and turned back to Marcine with her kind smile. "Sorry about Andrea, she's rude. My names Amy."

"Carol," the gray haired woman muttered.

"My name's Jacqui sweetheart," a pleasant black woman introduced herself, her image sharp.

Marcine smiled gently. "My name is Marcine.'

"So what _were _you doing over there anyway," Amy asked, lening forward a little to poke at the fire in front of her.

Marcine tucked a long strand of black behind her left ear. "I went to thank them," she muttered. "Guess that was a bad idea.

"Well yeah, they're not people anyone needs around really. Shane keeps them around because none of us know jack about surviving," Jacqui paused to scratch at her throat. "They're hunters."

Marcine stared at the embers of the fire, bright eyes lost in her thoughts. She should have listened to Lori's weak warning, they weren't good people. She should have just ignored it, but she couldn't help but be polite. It was just the right thing to do, even these days and Marcine needed to be on everyone's good side if she was going to stay here for more than a minute. And she meant _everyone's _goodside. Even those assholes. Now, Marcine was slightly terrified of this camp, because of Merle. Those two were dangerous, the look in their eyes was enough confirmation for her fears.

"Well it doesn't matter to me," Marcine muttered, straightening her back. "I'm leaving soon."

The woman looked to her in concern. "Why," Andrea asked, still looking like she was sulking.

Marcine shrugged, looking over her shoulder to the men. Shane and a heavy black man were hunched over a map that was laid out across a Jeep's hood. A young Asian man came up to, looking so young and curious. There was an old man and one in a jumpsuit working on the engine to the R.V. – Marcine made a mental note to try and help them with that, she knew a few things about cars and the like. She licked her lips and then looked to the brothers, that were now huddles around their fire. Daryl appeared to be scolding Merle, but he just laughed and waved him off, pulling something a large plastic baggie at his feet. She swallowed and turned back to the women, noting the air of concern. The way they looked at her made her feel like a child that didn't know how to do anything.

"I just…I don't want to be a burden," she muttered, lying.

Amy and Jacqui laughed. "Oh honey, trust us, you won't be a bother," Jacqui pat Marcine's knee. "We have plenty of food and supplies. You're fine, stay. You need it."

Marcine looked down at herself, noting the way her clothes were sagging and sighed, wrapping her arms around herself.

* * *

"Yer an idiot," Daryl muttered to his brother, placing an open can of beans on their tiny fire.

Merle laughed and struck his lighted, placing the end of a glass pipe between his lips. In ten seconds flat his pupils dilated to the point where there was none of that crisp green color left, only black. He blinked a few times, swaying in his seat before he shook his head. The pipe slipped from his fingers and dropped back into the bag.

"She a fine piece of ass," Merle muttered, lost in a drug haze as he saw her at the other camp.

Daryl kept his head down, eyes flashing towards her where she sat in the gaggle of women. She looked lost, like a child on their first day of school. She was nothing but a skeleton to him, a shadow of a former life. But he could see it, the strange potential coiled in her arms and legs. She was like a snake waiting to strike, all tight muscle and fear. Daryl snorted lowly to himself and nudged the can around.

"Stay away from 'er, Merle," he warned. "Don' need ya getting us kicked outta here."

Merle looked back to his brother, hating how he was such like a whipped dog at the moment. "Oh please lil brother," he leaned forward onto his knees, earning a glare from under Daryl's brow. "Know you would like to have 'er over here, bent back over th' way she were."

Daryl growled. "I said shut up," he quipped.

And Merle finally did as he told while Daryl pushed around beans. He swallowed slowly and looked up then, catching her eyes. She was staring at him with a plain look on her face. No hatred, no sneer, no fear. She was zoned out, probably not even really looking at him. He rubbed at his bottom lip, eyes sparking over her image.

She would do…she would do just fine.

* * *

_R&R please! Isn't much different from the other chapter in The Divide, but I fixed so many mistakes and added a lot of stuff, so here ya go._


	3. Them

**_I am so sorry I've been gone for this long. There were some technical difficulties with my computer but they're fixed now. Excuse any spelling mistakes I made, I didn't have time to proofread._**

* * *

**Three Weeks Later…**

* * *

Daryl thrived in the silence of the morning.

There were no cars, no helicopters, no inane human banter at five in the morning – his normal waking time. He could just sit in front of a lit fire and smoke a cigarette, do fucking nothing until the group began to rise from sleep. He was doing the same thing right now, hunched in on his knees and staring at the beginning of embers at the bottom of the flames that were too small to be any good. He looked up abruptly when he heard some sort of slapping, seeing a hawk speeding across the quarry. He grunted and looked back to the fire, taking a puff from his cigarette and blowing the white smoke up into the air. After another moment of sitting silently, he flicked the cigarette into the fire and rubbed his face.

He looked over to the rest of the camp when he heard shuffling.

She was coming from her ten, the pale curve of her back facing him as she looked around camp. She was a skinny little thing, but she had gained a tremendous amount of weight since she had become a part of the group. Most of her bones still showed and her clothes fit her too loosely for Daryl's liking but his opinion didn't really matter to her. She looked towards the quarry, biting her chapped lip for a moment as she nodded to herself, pulling her hair back into a bun. Daryl knew even with a decent amount of weight on her, she would still have those sharp ass cheek bones and that pointy chin.

He watched her bend into her tent slowly, leaving that supple ass in view and licked his bottom lip, pushing himself to his feet. He grabbed his crossbow and slipped out of her view, into the brush.

Yeah, Daryl was a dangerous man. She should watch herself, not that he would do anything to her but…being so open about that right there…hell, that would drive any man to his primal side.

* * *

Her smooth legs sliced through the clear water, back bathed in the warm sunlight of the morning. Her arms propelled her through the waves and she smiled, diving under until she touched bottom. She kicked against the slick bottom surface and shot through the surface, gulping in air with a smile on her face.

She felt _fucking normal._

Even for the apocalypse, she had been in rough condition. But thanks to the women, and the rare exception of the men around here (Glenn), she was doing exceptionally better. She could just _feel_ herself getting better – mentally, physically. The image was just a bonus.

She stepped out of the water, shivering a little as she wrung out her hair; she didn't notice the glint of the scope watching her. She grabbed a ragged, gray dress-thing from where she had draped it over a pile of rocks to get warm in the sun and wiggled it on, running her hands down her front. It was more of a long shirt, clinging in weird places, but until she got her turn to do laundry, this was all she had. She slipped her feet into her boots and started back towards camp, feeling a bit more chipper now that she was clean.

The women were up and gathered around a fire they were still building, yawning into their hands and wrapping their arms around their middles. They were mumbling amongst themselves and practically growled at Shane when he got too close. He had opened his mouth, as if to speak, but promptly closed it at the growling noises. He raised his hands and switched paths, headed towards the Jeep. Marcine hesitated for a moment on the edge of camp, contemplating going over there but too afraid. She was never really a people person, never had been. Around groups of people, she got tongue tied and said stupid things. She hated being embarrassed in front of more than one person. She wished she could just go through camp without being drawn into the women's going-ons but there was no way she could avoid that gravitational pull. This early in the morning, hell, they were like a black hole.

"Marcine, come join us, we have shitty coffe," Jacqui smiled at the young woman, holding a metal blue mug in the air.

Marcine smiled politely then shuffled over, sitting between Amy and her sister, Andrea. The older woman looked her up and down with approval, making Marcine almost want to growl at her. Andrea was not the nicest person and Marcine wished she had the nerve to tear her apart right there or even in private. But Marcine was not that type of girl, she didn't really like confrontations. But that was something she needed now, she needed to be stronger, she needed to be able to stick up for herself, defend herself. She didn't even know how to shoot a gun and sometimes there wouldn't be a knife in her hand; she would even settle for hand-to-hand training than nothing at all.

"So, Marcine?"

She looked up, face blank in thought. "Huh," damn, she was so smart.

Lori chuckled and took a sip from her coffee, cringing at the taste. "We were talking about why Daryl Dixon is staring at you so hard."

Marcine swallowed, fear slipping up her spine as she looked over her shoulder. There he was, meticulously cleaning his crossbow. She could see his bright blue eyes staring at her, from this angle it looked like he was glaring at her. She shivered and turned back to the fire, hands folded tightly in her lap.

"I don't know…" she mumbled.

"Well," Amy leaned back to cross her legs and leaned forward onto her knees. "Never seen him look at any of us like that."

A collective 'same here' echoed around the fire and everything got quiet. It made her feel like the odd one out, and that was never a good thing in any situation. She looked up when she heard shuffling and saw Morales and his family head for the quarry. They looked so happy, like the world hadn't touched them, and Marcine helt her stomach churn. T-Dog reached over, appearing as if he came out of thin air, and grabbed the cup of coffee out of Jacqui's hand. She glared at him and reached into a large pack beside the log she was sitting on, pulling out another mug and pouring herself more coffee.

"That boy is gonna be th' death of me, I swear," she mumbled, leaning into her coffee.

"I was thinking of going over and talking to Daryl about training me with a weapon," Marcine mumbled.

Jacqui, Carol and Lori went completely silent while Amy made choking noises and Andrea jumped to her feet. "The fuck," she spat.

Marcine shrugged, looking up at her. "I just…do any of the other men know how to take care of themselves like he does?"

Looking around at the doubtful and fear filled face gave her the answer she was looking for. Lori cleared her throat and set her mug in the sand by her feet. "Honey…I just don't think any of us think that's a good idea."

"Why? Because they seem like bad people," where was this defensiveness coming from? From her insane notion she was attracted to the perpetually-angry redneck in question? Perhaps. "You guys don't know if their bad people or not, they just might be misunderstood."

"Honey this is not high school, those are not just _some punks_," Jacqui scolded, her face creased in worry. "Those are full grown men with plans and wants, wants they have already displayed to us. They are not…trustworthy," she straightened her back. "They have made their mark on us."

Marcine leaned forward a little, some kind of aggression bubbling in her chest. "And what mark would that be? Not talking to any of you? Not being friendly? Is their acting like the world went to shit, which it did, bother you?"

Andrea hesitated and then twisted to crouch in front of Marcine, taking her shaky hands in her own. "Marcine…the day they brought you in, they were watching for scragglers near the road leading into the quarry. Dale was watching them. He said he heard a scream, saw the Dixon brother come back with a fresh corpse following behind them," Andrea swallowed, remembering finding that body when she went to investigate later that night. "And he said Merle was playing with it, toying with it like it was a pet."

Marcine pulled her hands away. "Merle," her voice was shaky for some reason. "Not Daryl…"

Lori looked like she was about to burst. "But we don't know exactly what ha-"

"You know what happened, Lori," Andrea whispered, looking over her shoulder then back to Marcine. "They…they're not good people, ok? Please think more about this decision before you go out there, asking them to take you alone away from us."

"We need someone to go into the city," Shane interrupted, raising an eyebrow to Andrea.

She looked up at him and sighed. "Well, I'm willing to go."

Lori stood, clasping her hands together in front of her. "Shane, I don't think that would be ok right now."

He sighed, rubbing his face. "And why wouldn't it be," he mocked. Well, sort of.

Marcine stood and wondered back to her tent, falling onto her bedroll with a heavy sigh. It was starting to heat up in the tent, the air thick with humidity. She rolled onto her back, arms spread at her sides. She was so hungry right now, but there was no way she going over to Shane and asking for a dip in the food supply. They were running low on canned and bagged food, they were almost solely relying on the Dixons for nourishment. Marcine never realized how good squirrel was until now; of course, she never thought you could eat it, what with the diseases carried by small mammals and such…

She wanted to be able to do that on her own, wanted to hunt on her own, take care of herself. She wanted to be able to fight her way out of something she could never handle no matter her physical health. Daryl and Merle could help her, if they wanted to. She was scared of them…but she didn't want to die. She wanted to live, even if the world was pure hell right now, she wanted to be able to live as full a life as possible, even if she might not live to see the age of thirty.

She rolled onto her side, staring across to a large trash bag full of musty clothes. She didn't even know how to wash clothes like a survivor, dear Lord.

She shot up, back straight and she peeked out of the tent, towards the Dixon camp. Daryl was still hunched over his crossbow but Merle had come from his tent; when he saw her peeking, he grinned sickly at her and she bit her tongue. She could see the bag in his hand, saw him pull out something small and knock it back, taking a sip from a half-full whiskey bottle. Marcine licked her lips, pushing herself forward.

**What are you doing?**

**_I'm surviving._**

**By walking into the hornets nest, no deal.**

**_What if they don't sting?_**

**Oh, they most certaintly will.**

Her adrenaline was pumping on full, her tiny fists curled at her sides. She passed T-Dog and Glenn, who eyed her curiously. Past Shane and Lori, who were too curled up in their own argument to bother her with a glance. Past the gaggle of women who she heard gasp. Why gasp? It was so cliché.

When she stopped beside Daryl, he simply froze, but Merle leered grossly. She didn't feel that shiver of disgust or fear trickle across her spine, she felt nothing. Daryl looked up when she said nothing and for a moment, she got caught in those eyes. Too deep, too beautiful, to belong to a monster.

"What," he asked, voice gruff.

She swallowed hard, almost painfully. "Teach me what you know," she said, barely above a whisper.

He could have taken it in any direction, but he knew what she wanted, and scoffed. "Hell nah, you couldn't handle it.

"Yes I can! I can handle anything you would throw at me. I need to learn and them over there…they know you can do it but…"

He looked up at her. "Hell. No," he bit out.

"Aw, c'mon lil brother," Marcine felt a heavy arm drape over her shoulders. "Let's go teach the lil miss how to handle 'erself."

"Merle," Daryl said in a warning tone.

His eyes were sharp, suffocating, so was that arm wrapped around her. She felt suffocated, like she was gonna pop, like she was already staring over the edge. There was no turning back if he said yet. No turning back from what, she wasn't quite, sure, hadn't grasped the situation yet. She didn't notice the look in Merle's eyes, didn't notice the way Daryl's eyes raked over her, his prize, and she sure as hell didn't notice the way Shane was ready to blow both Dixons heads off.

Marcine cleared her throat though. "Now dammit, you need to show me how to handle myself. Please, I don't care what it is. Teach me, I…I need to know how to do this. I can't live in this world the way I am and I don't want to die, not yet."

He stared at her, ice blue eyes flickering between her face and his brothers. It was like he and his brother were having a quick conversation, checking off things on an imaginary list. Marcine could feel the tension, smell the testosterone.

"Fuck," Daryl sighed, standing and looking her up and down, _appraising her. _"We start tomorra…"

* * *

**_So guys, give me feed back. May not be the chapter you were expecting after such a long wait but I plan to update real quick after this. I don't want to leave you all hanging again._**


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